When You Come Back
by Shenzuul
Summary: When you come back...how will I feel? How will I act? A collection of short one shots containing the reflections of various characters.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own what isn't mine.

Warning: Coarse language. Occasional (intentional) poor grammar.

* * *

><p><strong>When you come back…<strong>

I'll stuff my hands in my pockets, tilt my head, and casually ask you where you've been.

_Where **the hell** have you been **all goddamned night,** I've been worried **sick** about you, and you look like **shit.**_

I'll pretend like I _haven't_ been sitting at the window, trying to catch a glimpse of you on the dark streets, wishing like hell that I had Soul Perception like you do, straining to catch that faint brushing of your soul against mine that I can only sense when you're nearby—_which is why I hate it when you leave my side, you idiot._

I won't apologize, 'cause that wouldn't be cool. It wasn't my fault, anyway, and even as you stormed out, I could feel your guilt, and if I said sorry that would only make you feel worse, _and shit, I would grovel at your feet if I thought it would do you one freakin' iota of good._ Hell, this isn't even about what I said, and what you said—this is about something else entirely, isn't it? This is about **that**. This is because you are scared and broken. This is your pain and anger and uncertainty and _fear_ getting in the way.

I'll play it off cool. I'll shrug at whatever lame excuse you make up and leave it alone. I'll throw myself on the couch and turn on the TV while you go to your room to stew, and even though it'll be tense, by morning, everything will be back to normal.

Right?

Damn. Who the hell am I kidding?

_Because when you come back, I'm going to pull you against my chest and kiss you until there is no air left in your lungs and tell you that if you **ever** scare me like that again I will shackle you to me—scratch that, I am never letting you go **period**, and I will hold you in my arms for the rest of the night and savor each tear that soaks my scarred chest because even though it hurts, **I love you.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own [insert whatever you are taking offense over].

**Warning:** Takes a few liberties with the personality of a character not much examined.

* * *

><p><strong>When you come back…<strong>

You will not be the same.

Stein has warned me that you will look different. It's not just that the wound in your forehead will never go away. Your eyes will glow with the power that animates you, and your skin will be that of a corpse. Even the shape of your face will change, he said. I can't imagine it, to tell the truth—your skin sunken in, your skull standing out sharply beneath your flesh, your nose and ears rotted away. Maybe I won't even recognize you.

But that's not all, is it? Stein didn't say anything, but I'm no fool. Because you'll have been dead, and no matter what scientific stunt Stein pulls, dead is dead and it doesn't come back to life, not really. When you come back, you aren't going to be the man you were. The man I knew.

You think I care about that? You are my partner, and you will always have my loyalty. All those years ago, when we decided not to make me a Death Scythe, we made a promise: to always be a team. Always. And you've already proved your dedication to that promise. Yes, you shrug it off like it was nothing, but it was important to me, the way you stuck by my side all of those agonizing months I was laid up in the hospital, covered in hideous burns. No one else could bear to look at me; my parents, my friends hardly ever visited—but you were there every day. When even I couldn't stand to look at myself, you took care of me, helped me with the bandages, didn't turn your eyes away.

And I am not going to turn away from you. So you won't be the man you were—what does it matter? People change. That's life. And afterlife, I suppose. When we made our pact, I already knew that we would not be the same people forever. But I swore to be your partner, no matter what happened, no matter how we changed.

When you come back, things will be different.

But what's important is that you _are_ coming back.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> This is an exercise in concision. I wonder if I succeeded in conveying the message in so few words? Probably not.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own squat.

Warning: Conciseness may interfere with intelligibility.

* * *

><p><strong>When you come back…<strong>

I will be ready. For you will come back, as I have known from the moment I sealed you away. I knew that for all my power, I could only delay the clash that would shake the world's very foundations.

I know you thought it sentimentality, some lingering respect for our old bond that held me back. You thought it the classic weakness, love, mercy, that kept me from destroying you. But you mistook me. I hesitated, at that final moment, staring into your raging eyes, because I suddenly wondered:

Is this right?

I, who am singularly befitted to contemplate my own death, thought, what would it mean for humanity if I was obliterated? I, the shadow at the heart of nearly every human fear, the one inescapable force that limits human potential, a bringer of grief, a quencher of light? _Can I justify my own existence?_ Long ago, in a darker age, when I was something much like you, the question would never have occurred to me. But time stabilized the wildness that accompanied my great power, and age changed my perspectives. Thus, the question was asked, the hesitation inevitable.

But now, at last, I have an answer. Now, I have remembered. Just as madness existed before you, and will continue when you are gone, so too does death exist independently of me. And while time transformed me into a benign ruler, a protector of order, even a source of peace, madness itself is chaos and confusion. Madness traps people within their own minds, so that they cannot love, cannot support one another. There is no respite, no chance to truly live.

And so, my one-time friend, when you come back, I will be ready. For there cannot coexist two Kishin in this world, and if one day Death must be conquered, it will not be by Madness.


	4. Chapter 4

**When you come back…**

I probably ain't gonna tell you about this.

See, I don't much like the idea of gods. You're telling me some guy out there gets to be stronger and better than me just by _existing?_ That no matter how much anybody ever trains or studies or fights, this _god_ will still be the greatest? Bullshit. I'm not gonna take that.

And the idea of praying's even worse. So now you've got this same guy who thinks he's bigger than me getting to decide if I win or lose my fights, my life, my _soul_! And I'm supposed to suck up to him so that he'll _favor _me? Yeah, right. So I'm setting out to challenge him one day. One day, I'm gonna beat him, and I'll prove that the only _real _divine law is that whoever trains the longest, fights the fiercest, struggles the hardest, wins.

But I'm not quite there yet. There are still some battles I can't fight myself. Like this one: your brother, your pride, your fight. And since right now you're in there and I'm out here, and all I can do is watch that black sword and wait for you to come out, I'm gonna drop my rule, just for this once. I'm gonna pray for you, with everything I've got.

And since it's me, it'll be the best praying anyone could ever do. Let them beat me with sticks; let them shout. Here, gods, have this blood on my face. I'll give you a piece of me. I'll sit quiet and still and let you storm all around me. I'll listen, I'll keep watch. 'Cause it's not me I'm praying for, but her.

* * *

><p><em>For Paper Flight. You probably don't remember asking for a Black Star shot, though. Hope you don't mind that I took one of his serious moments.<em>

Questions, comments, and critiques are welcome.

Shenzuul


End file.
